In the barn there is little sunlight
Chickens should have fresh air, sunshine is optimal
After all, they provide for me eggs daily, their life my hobby
Birds deserve to fly, pursue their curiosity, instinctual needs
There's a bird flu going 'round
Even humans can catch it
I haven't, that is, caught the bird flu
No one I know has ever had the bird flu
Never touch a dead bird
I have a collection of skeletal remains
Skulls, beaks, teeth from a small fox, all from my outings in the forest
I won't touch a dead bird, I promise you that
The chickens hate being inside as I said
My cousin died last week
In the barn I hear the chickens squawking
I wish they understood that I am protecting them
They're quality of life depends on me
There's a bird flu going 'round.
About the Creator
ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)
~ American feminist living in Sweden ~ SHE/HER
Admin. Vocal Social Society
Find me: @andreapolla63.bsky.social
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Bartender
On the heels of grief, pain bears down hard. On the heels of death, pain awakens the quiet place between the end of our own life and now. Feeling anything is like seeing a film and in black and white, slow motion, all sound turned off. Just watching. Gritting teeth, awkward smiles and bloody red eyes move around, scanning the others who are feeling something I don't want to feel, but I do. Escapism is all I have ever known. ~
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)5 days ago in Poets
Comments (2)
I loved how grounded this felt in reality. Wonderful poetry!
That became a heart wrenching slice of life. Beautifully done